


perfect places

by Adaris



Series: no glory in the west [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Asexual CC-2224 | Cody, Canon Divergence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Demisexual Obi-Wan Kenobi, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Joined the Rebellion AU, M/M, Memory Loss, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Order 66, Pre-Star Wars: A New Hope, Relationship Problems, Reunions, The Rating Changed, Trans Male Character, Trans Obi-Wan Kenobi, and really don't we all, bantering during sex, cody definitely falls along sex positive to sex neutral, he just wants obi-wan to have a good time, now that's a codywan tag if i ever saw one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26034610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adaris/pseuds/Adaris
Summary: Cody has waited for twelve years, and now he's finally escaped the control of the Empire. He just wants to reunite with his husband, Obi-Wan Kenobi, but it's been over a decade since they've even seen each other. Cody wants to believe they'll fit back together, the way they used to. No, he knows they will. After all, there's work to be done, and they've never shied away from anything, not when they're together.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: no glory in the west [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1868179
Comments: 40
Kudos: 189





	1. action figures [cody]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cody makes friends and eats marshmallows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just did a Star Wars Wiki Deep Dive (please talk to me about a Star Wars/Stargate fusion where the Rakatan Infinite Empire's tech was operated by the ATA gene also Force-sensitive Jack O'Neill bops up to the Star Forge and turns it on by accident while Daniel yells incoherently in archaeologist PERFECT) and evidently I've been spelling 'meiluuron' wrong this whole time? But 'meiloorun' looks dumb, and I'm electing to ignore it. Anyway, please enjoy Part 2 of No Glory in the West!

_all of our heroes fading_

_now i can't stand to be alone_

_let's go to perfect places_

* * *

“How does this look on me?” Obi-Wan asks, emerging from the changing room with a flourish. He leans agains the doorframe and tilts his head at Cody, that one piece of hair flopping down into his eyes. 

Cody’s already in disguise, plain clothes with a hat that hides his scar. For some reason, though, Obi-Wan is in an excessively awful floral crop top that would only look at home in a botanical garden. “Good, but also, we’re going undercover on a planet full of criminals.” 

“Maybe they’re criminals with fashion sense,” Obi-Wan argues for the sake of arguing. 

“We’ll be meeting Rex, General Skywalker, and Commander Tano there. They’ll all take pictures and post them everywhere. Bly and Wolffe will know within seconds.” 

“Hm. Point well made, although I did like the pattern.” He wanders back inside holding a less lurid top. 

“You would’ve hated it after awhile. Too short.” Cody sits down on one of the cushions, cross-legged.

“Most likely. But I do enjoy the opportunity to dress up.”

“You don’t have to wear the exact same set of robes every single day. General Secura certainly doesn’t.”

“She dresses like that to annoy Quinlan. He’s of the opinion that she should be in full armor at all times, preferably sitting in a room made of bubble wrap on a distant planet nobody has ever heard of, eating homemade soup.”

“Still. You could mix it up. I’m sure she’d lend you some leggings.”

“No, that’s not for me,” Obi-Wan laughs. He comes out of the room in his ordinary Jedi robes, which is the opposite of what he’s supposed to be doing. Somehow, he’s sweaty and grimy, and his eyes are a glassy, reflective blue. “Cody.”

Cody frowns. “What’s wrong? Did you forget the mission?” 

The room around them starts to shift, the walls melting away. 

“Cody,” Obi-Wan repeats, more insistent. “Cody, stop!” He sounds terrified. 

“Obi-Wan, what’s happening?” The room is gone, replaced by a sheer cliffside that drops down to a pool of turquoise water below. There’s a weapon in Cody’s hands, and he’s turning it towards Obi-Wan, and there’s a voice in his head telling him that this is exactly what he was meant for. “No!”

He comes back to himself hunched against a wall muttering, “No, no, no,” under his breath. All he’d thought was that he needed a disguise, since the troopers were bound to be searching for him by now, and then he’d remembered just a fragment—and the biggest mistake of his life. 

Cody shakes his head. He’s got to keep going. Save all of this for later.

There aren’t many shipyards in this area of Republic City; it’s more governmental than anything else, and the closest yard is military. They’ll be looking for him over there, and they’ll know exactly what he looks like. 

However, there’s one place that will have ships—the yards outside the Senate building. As soon as he thinks it, the static rises, numbing his thoughts. He shouldn’t go there, he should turn himself in, it’s not too late—

Cody hurries towards the Senate building, stealing a hat and one of those commemorative shirts that say “I Heart Republic City” from a stall. If he tries, he can half-imagine Obi-Wan’s scathing reaction to it, and it makes him smile past the headache. The kitschy stores slowly disappear as he approaches the Senate building. It casts an imposing shadow, more intimidating than grand, with a giant, bright red Imperial banner fluttering over the door. The senators rush inside, like they can’t wait to leave the streets. 

Squadrons of stormtroopers patrol the area, mixed in with the senators’ personal guards. Cody rubs the skin around his eyes and winces at the dull ache. He has to focus, though, make note of the patrol patterns and how to avoid them. It’s harder than it should be. 

He waits for all of the senators to go inside the building; the second half of the day’s session always starts at 1300. While he’s waiting, he picks out his target—an aging corvette called _Tantive IV_. Something about it feels almost familiar, but he can’t quite remember why, and trying just makes his head hurt more. 

There are four guards standing outside, milling about and chatting with each other. Cody hides behind a line of fuel barrels, knees creaking as he ducks down. He’s going to feel that tomorrow. Probably the day after, too. He squints at the guards, sizing them up. They’re all armed with the same type of blaster pistol, some light armor, but nothing too problematic. Their gloves say the most, stiff and unmarked, not worn from continuous use. Honestly, they’re almost civilians. It wouldn’t be right to kill them, but he does have to knock them out, and emotionally, he needs to punch something. Maybe a few somethings. 

He sneaks forward, hiding behind crates and from multiple Imperial droids. Once he reaches the left side of the ship, he nudges at the crates so they’re unbalanced, and returns to the right side. 

Once he’s in position, he throws a piece of scrap metal at the crates, and they fall over with a distractingly loud crash. Cody winces at the noise, pressing one hand to the side of his head. 

Two guards break off from the ship to investigate. He jumps over the barrels in front of him and attacks the two who remain. They’re well-trained, but they haven’t been literally raised for war. As soon as he kicks one of them in the chest, a flicker of memory comes back, of him kicking a droid so hard it sparks, and he almost smiles. Although all the droid-kicking is responsible for the situation with his knees and lower back. 

The shouting attracts the attentions of the other guards, who rush back with blasters drawn. Cody backs up the gangplank onto the ship, and they stop firing. Afraid of damaging the ship?

One of the guards rushes towards him, and Cody gets in a punch to his nose, making him reel back. He grabs the guard by the collar, unbalances him with a well-placed foot, and is about to drop him when a voice from behind says, “Commander Cody?”

He glances back and sees a bearded senator, expression halfway between shock and disbelief. “What?” Nobody in the Empire knows his name—just his number.

“Cody—please put my guard down. He’s just doing his job,” the senator says, in a strangely familiar way. 

Cody frowns as the one remaining guard enters the ship, aiming his blaster at Cody’s back, and lets the one he’s holding slump to the floor.

“Don’t shoot him, he’s a friend,” the senator says to the guard, who lowers his weapon reluctantly. “Why don’t you come inside, sit down? It’s good to see you.”

Cody knows for a fact that he looks less like a friend than someone being actively hunted by the law, in his novelty shirt and truly awful hat paired with the sweaty military fatigues. And the blood. No, a senator is much more likely to lull him into a false sense of security and then call him in. “Look, no disrespect, but I don’t know or trust you.” He can technically still fight his way out of this one; what’s a few blaster bolts when it’s his freedom on the line?

The senator takes note of Cody’s uneasy glance and gestures for his guard to leave. “I don’t think you’ll accept my promises, but is there anything I could do to help you trust me?”

His knee-jerk reaction is No! Gods no! Get away from me! Cody chews on his lip; he’s trying to stay calm, keep in control of the situation, but everything in him is screaming to run, and his head is really starting to hurt now. “How do you know me?”

“You don’t remember?” The senator‘s forehead wrinkles in worry. “We weren’t the best of friends, but we were at least acquainted. You came to my rescue on multiple occasions during the Clone War.”

Cody shakes his head. “I just need to get off this planet.”

“I agree with that, but do you mind if I ask how you got here? And where you were?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Cody mutters under his breath.

The senator finally looks a bit peeved. “Alright, if you want to fight me every step of the way, fine. Do you know where you’re going, at least? You don’t have to tell me where.”

Cody stares the senator down, not intending to give a single damn inch. “Away.” 

“Obi-Wan, you had to pick the most standoffish, recalcitrant man in the galaxy, didn’t you?” the senator asks the ceiling, exasperated.

That’s the first interesting thing this senator’s said yet. “You know him? Obi-Wan?” 

“Obviously I—erm. Yes, I do. I was friends with Padmé, and Anakin was her husband—” His comm chimes at that exact moment. “Ah. We’re in session. Cody, if I ask you to wait here until five, could you do that? I know you don’t trust me, but I want to help you, if you’ll let me. And if you’ll pardon me saying, you look like you could do with a rest and a glass of water.” 

Cody closes his eyes, trying to remember a single scrap of information about this person, but there’s nothing. Not even a bit of feeling. But there’s something in the senator’s face that he trusts, or wants to trust. “Can I ask you one more thing? What’s your name?” 

“Bail Organa. I’m the senator from Alderaan.” He smiles, but not entirely happily, as if he wishes Cody could remember himself. 

Yeah, same. 

Cody watches him for any sign of subterfuge, any hint of betrayal, and finds only an honest smile. Finally, he nods. “I’ll wait.” 

“Thank you. And please feel free to take anything you like in the ship, I’ll make sure my guards leave you alone.” Bail nods politely at Cody, who can’t remember the last time someone was polite to him. 

His brain glitches for a second, and he gives a deeply awkward wave before disappearing into the ship.

Cody inches through the hallways, half-waiting for the trap to spring around him, but it’s a pretty normal place. Someone’s pinned a kid’s drawings up on the walls, showing different planets, a family; they start out crayon, but quickly work up to acrylics and then watercolors. It’s strange, for an Imperial ship to look so homey. Although the senator had said he was from a place called Alderaan; Cody vaguely remembers a green, lush world, but not much else.

He stumbles into a small mess—no—a kitchen. Not for military rations, for civilian food. Cooking. There’s a bowl of fruit on the table, pears and jogon and a large golden-yellow meiluuron. Part of him thinks, Things this nice aren’t meant for clones, and he crushes it viciously. 

He gets a glass of water first, drinking it and then another in quick succession. It tastes clean and fresh, not like the desalinated, metallic water on Kamino. Kriff, he’d forgotten water could taste good. 

After a moment, he cleans his face and hands in the cool water, and his headache fades a bit. He’s still half-tensed in case this is just a really elaborate trap. A trap with crayon art, a fruit bowl, and really karking good water.

He could get used to it.

Nobody’s around to see him, so Cody sneaks over to the table and carefully picks up the meiluuron. It’s ripe, or at least, smells sweet and tart and karking delicious. He hunts down a cutting board and medium-sized knife and slices the fruit open, peeling himself a slice that glistens with juice. 

This is best thing he’s had in years; sweet as romance, floral and tart, and his mouth waters as he eats. It reminds him of the past, dim and fading as it is, a day in the sun with the man he loves as they walk through the streets hand in hand, and he finds he’s crying over a piece of kriffing fruit, the tears spilling down his face, the knife lying forgotten in his hand. 

Cody sits down on the floor with his back to the counter, wiping away hot tears. He doesn’t even know where Obi-Wan is. If he’s alive. But he wants to believe, has no choice but to believe, that there’s even a fucking shred of hope. 

The crystal in his pocket shines, and he clutches it tight. There’s hope—giving in had been easy, a numb darkness, but new hope burns in his chest like a spark of starlight, and he finally has a reason to hold onto it. 

He can barely think past the pounding in his head; even the crystal can’t hold it off forever, but he’s always been stubborn. He rubs at his eyes and wishes he could go home, but he has no idea where that even is. Wherever Obi-Wan is, right? 

“Wow. Are you okay?” a voice asks. 

Cody jumps a kriffing foot into the air and skitters back, fumbling for his vibroblade. “Back the hell off,” he growls, his voice thick and rough. 

“Hey, chill out.” A kid crawls out from an air vent in the wall, face streaked with grease and grime. She’s not even a teenager yet, dressed in a white tunic, her hair swirled into two buns that sit over her ears. The hairdo reminds him oddly of Ahsoka, if she’d had hair.

Cody puts the knife down, guilt bubbling in his stomach. 

She sits down next to him, cross-legged. “Why were you crying? Meiluurons aren’t that good.” 

“Who are you?” he asks instead. 

“Uh... not supposed to be here. But you aren’t either, so... why were you crying?” She watches him closely, with intelligent brown eyes. Something about her seems strangely familiar, but that’s impossible. 

Cody shrugs. “I was remembering something.” 

“And it was sad? What was it?” 

“My—my husband. I was just missing him,” he admits. Even that much makes his chest and throat tighten. 

Her little face creases. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you at least going back to him soon?”

“I don’t know.”

The little girl chews on a piece of loose hair and then arrives at a decision. “I was holding onto him while my dad’s in session, but I feel like you need him more than I do.” She holds out a tiny toy clone trooper. “It’s Commander Cody. He’s my favorite.”

Cody stares wordlessly down at the action figure, armor marked with achingly familiar paint. The fact that these were made at all is deeply confusing, strangely conflicting. He hadn’t even known, and someone out there had been profiting on his image. For what? Why? This toy soldier is more Commander Cody than he is, at this point. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I brought others with me for backup, just in case.” She starts to retreat into her vent again. “Wait! I’m Leia. What’s your name?”

He debates lying for a moment, and then says, “Cody.”

Leia stares at him in shock, eyes flicking to the scar on the side of his face. “I’m a karking idiot.”

“Don’t swear,” he scolds without even thinking. 

She brushes that off, scooting closer to him. “My dad talks about you and all the other clones all the time! I mean, not on Coruscant, because everyone’s listening there. You must know so much stuff! How did you get here? I thought you were—well, my dad said there was some kind of chip that made you do bad stuff.”

“Um. I don’t really know.” 

“Are you going to—” she leans in “—are you going to join the Rebellion? Is that why you’re talking to my dad?”

Cody instinctively shies back, expecting a burst of censorship static that never comes. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Wow. You don’t know, like, anything.” She tilts her head at him. 

“Nope.” 

“That seems annoying. My dad doesn’t tell me a lot either, so I usually steal stuff when he’s not looking.” Leia pauses for a second, chewing on her hair. “D—don’t tell him I said that. Then he’ll up his security again, and that’s such a pain.” 

“I won’t,” he promises. 

“Thanks!” Leia grins and scrambles up, dragging Cody with her. “Want some marshmallows? Mom always says dessert is only for after dinner, but I think this situation calls for marshmallows!” 

Cody’s internal parent rears his head and agrees loudly with Mom Organa. “Hm, do you think there’s hot chocolate in here, too?” 

“Yeah!” She practically beams, jumping and pointing at the cabinet with hot chocolate mix. 

When Bail Organa comes back, Cody and Leia are definitely not roasting marshmallows over the stovetop and getting melted sugar on everything, a lineup of Cody’s toy brothers dusted with powdered sugar and sprinkles. 

“Dad!” she yelps, diving behind Cody. “Me and Commander Cody were just having a marshmallow party...” She makes an attempt at looking contrite, and she reminds him of Fives about to get one hell of a scolding from Rex. 

Bail shakes his head, shifting into lecture mode. “Leia, how many times have I told you not to sneak onto the ship? Does your mother know where you are? What about all of your classes?” 

“Um... I’ve been blocking her comms from reaching the ship, but she knows I’m here,” Leia admits, scuffing the floor with one toe. 

Bail’s stern frown lasts about three seconds, and then he breaks. “Alright, that’s quite resourceful. Although next time, please just ask, instead of hiding in the ventilation system.” 

“I like crawling around the vents,” she mutters petulantly, but otherwise mollified. “Do... you want some marshmallows?” 

“Yes,” Bail sighs. He joins Cody and Leia by the stove and starts roasting a marshmallow on a fork. “So, Commander.” 

“Hello,” Cody says quietly. “I still don’t remember who you are, but your daughter’s told me a lot about you.” 

“And?” 

Leia sticks a hand between them to grab a square of chocolate and a few graham crackers, then hops onto the counter to munch on an assembled s’more. The gooey marshmallow sticks to her fingers and gets all down the front of her shirt. When she looks up at them, she has a chocolate mustache, and she grins at both of them. 

Cody smiles, despite himself. “I think I want to trust you.” 

Bail claps Cody on the shoulder. “That’s good to hear, old friend. Or shall I count you as a new friend?” 

“Both, if possible.” His head starts to pound again, and he sits down heavily in a kitchen chair. 

“Leia, could you go to my room and get our guest a change of clothes?” Bail asks, and Leia nods once in understanding and scurries away. “I hope you don’t mind a bit of marshmallow on your new clothes."

“Anything’s better than these,” Cody mutters, rubbing at one aching knee. “Gods, I got old.” 

“We all did.” Bail sits down next to him. “Are you feeling alright?” 

“Killer headache, bad knees, bad back.” He tries for a smile and doesn’t quite make it. “So… not bad, for me” 

“Now I’m even more impressed that you took down my guards. Clearly your martial skills have not faded.”

Cody shrugs. Sure, he’s kept muscle memory, but there are a lot of memories that he just doesn’t know are missing. 

“What else do you remember?” Bail asks. 

“Not much, or at least, not anything that might be useful. They never told me more than strictly necessary,” he says bitterly. He's just a clone; admittedly treated better than the CTs, but still not an equal, and certainly not trusted with sensitive information. 

Bail shakes his head and clarifies, “I meant about your life. You’ve forgotten me, which… I’m not too insulted. We didn’t know each other that well. But what about other people? Anakin, Rex, your brothers?”

“I have most of my memories about them back, I think, but there are holes. It hurts to remember everything, especially Obi-Wan—and then—I think I—on Utapau, I think I might have k—” Cody can’t even say it. “I don’t know if he’s still—”

Bail immediately takes Cody’s hand to reassure him. “Don’t worry, he’s alive.”

About a thousand tons of weight drop from Cody’s shoulders, and he sags in his chair like he’s been punched. He rubs at his face, barely able to find the right words to say. “I’m sorry I’m—it’s—” He sinks back into silence, emotions overwhelming his words. Obi-Wan is alive. 

Of course he’d be. Somewhere in the wide galaxy, probably doing his damn best to fight the Empire wherever he is. Probably with those rebels Cody’s heard about. Maybe there are brothers fighting with him, ones who managed to evade Order 66. He’d put his money on Rex and the 501st any day. 

“It’s a lot. Please let me know if you need anything.”

Cody nods, pinching and twisting at the back of his hand, trying to calm down, not betray any more emotions. He’s almost certain by now that Bail Organa is trustworthy; no Imperial agent could fake being nice for this long. But he can’t shake the feeling that he’s got to keep everything a secret, that at any moment, the chip will start censoring his thoughts again until he’s been completely edited away.

He doesn’t want to forget Obi-Wan again, not ever, but—“Was he angry at me?” he asks, voice a whisper. “Did he think I betrayed him? Because I didn’t want to do it, but they made me, and—and—I couldn’t even say so until today.” His emotions take a roller-coaster dive from unspeakable happiness all the way down to stomach-churning dread. “He hates me, doesn't he?”

Even though the chip isn’t active, he swears he feels it protesting inside his head, telling him everyone is dead, it’s useless, Obi-Wan hates him, he should give up, he should love and serve the Empire. He scowls and rubs at the side of his head, wincing as he presses too hard against the sensitive skin. A burst of static whites out half the world, and the rest starts to spin and swirl with the surge of panic that follows, because it can’t be back, he just escaped, he’s not going back to the Empire. He’d rather die. Red speckles his hands, and he realizes the strange warmth dripping down his face is blood.

Someone’s grabbing his arm—he flinches back without thinking, not knowing who they are. He grabs for the crystal in his pocket, but despite its gentle warmth, it doesn’t help, and he starts to vanish into the yawning emptiness that stretches in front of him.

_Tell him I’m sorry._

Then the static surges into a wave that washes everything away, and he’s gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In other news, I am now taking complaints and offering condolences over on Tumblr ([@arwcn](https://arwcn.tumblr.com/)).


	2. ah, but i’m singing like a bird about it now (ben)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under the searing twin suns of Tatooine, Obi-Wan Kenobi fades away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the pain train [choo choos sadly]

The first thing he leaves behind is his name. His clothes have to change too, and he should really stop carrying around his lightsaber in open view. He closes off his Force presence, severing all connections completely; anyone else might think he’s dead. He even exchanges the ship Bail gave him for something less shiny. 

The only thing he has left, once he reaches Tatooine, is Luke. For a newborn baby, Luke is surprisingly well-behaved. He only really cries when he’s lonely or hungry, and Ben is happy to carry him around the small ship until he settles. Sometimes, though, Luke cries to be held by people who are long gone, and Ben wants to cry, too, for everything that’s been lost. But he doesn’t, because Luke needs him to keep it together. 

They’re not together long, but Ben is hesitant to let him go. In another life, Luke and Leia might have been raised among the other initiates, with Anakin and Ahsoka watching over them. Plo and Mace would have adored them, and Quinlan would have loved to take on the role of annoying uncle, and it’s an enchanting vision, but only that, and nothing more. 

Eventually, he does give Luke to his new family, however reluctantly. It’s hard not having someone to care for, someone who needs him. The emptiness feels worse now. Harder to fill. 

After selling the second ship, Ben buys a smallish house on the outskirts of town, close enough that he can watch over Luke. He puts away what few possessions he has, rearranges all the food in the fridge, pushes the furniture around until it’s just right. 

The boredom sets in about fifteen minutes later. 

But there’s nothing he can actually _do_ except wait around for someone to try murdering or kidnapping Luke. Besides, of course, wallow. He indulges himself in a little wallowing from time to time. 

It’s easy to slip into that place, because whenever he closes his eyes, he’s falling from a cliff to the cold water below, feeling the sear of cannon fire over his skin. He can never escape the ache of the Force tilted completely to the Dark, the shadowy melancholy that pervades the light, turning it from quicksilver-bright to sludge. He tries to keep himself from staying there too long, but some days are easier than others. 

The few people he’s in contact with in Mos Eisley comment that he seems sad. But he’s not _sad_. 

Yes, he’s filled up notebooks with sketches of friends he’s lost, yes, he drinks far too much tea to keep himself from drinking other things, yes, he’s become a bit hermitlike over the years, yes, the lonely ache in his chest is slowly suffocating him and he misses a laundry list of friends and family and Cody, _fucking gods_ , does he miss Cody, and _yes_ , he often finds himself out in the endless expanse of the sand wastes at dusk, the suns hot, the moons beautiful, the lights of starships unknown circling overhead, always missing each other, never to meet again—ah, kriff. He’s sad. 

Ben’s engaged in another bit of early-morning wallowing, this time about his failure to search for Cody. There are a thousand what-ifs he can torture himself with from that alone. He knows it’s undignified to hide underneath the blankets, but… he’s not ready to get up yet. This is fine, though. If he had a reason to get up, he would. This is all perfectly ordinary.

Seven in the morning rolls around, and he drags himself out of bed to make tea. When the tea’s ready, he sits outside in the rough sand and watches the speeders coming into the city through the canyon. Crucially, he tries not to be too disappointed when the wind blows sand directly into the teacup. Let it never be said Anakin wasn’t right about something. The sand always manages to find the exact places Ben wishes it wouldn’t go, and a gritty cup of tea is _never_ part of a relaxing morning experience. 

He lets the light jasmine flavor wash over his tongue, and when he closes his eyes, for just a moment, he’s back in the Temple on Coruscant, and the rustle of the sand is the movement of feet and the swish of robes. Then it’s over, and he’s alone. 

When the tea is gone, he drags himself to his feet, wincing at the stiffness in his joints. He goes inside to make breakfast and finds he’s out of eggs, and milk, and anything that isn’t instant rice. 

“Fuck,” he sighs. He’s also low on cash again. “Instant rice it is.” 

He’ll have to get another contract in town, so he can actually do the shopping. It’s a delicate balance of fulfilling all his contracts, but not so quickly that he stands out in any particular manner. He tries his best to avoid bounties for rebels, and occasionally trips up the unlucky hunter he finds going after one of them, but not frequently enough that it becomes a pattern. 

It’s pretty much the only good thing he does, these days. 

Ben makes his way into town after a disappointing breakfast, up to the third shadiest bar in town—the Sozzled Parrot. Inside, he’s met with assorted nods and disgusted glances from the other hunters, depending on how much he’s snarked at them in the past. 

“Ben! So, you’re still alive? Nobody’s tried to kill you for sassing the wrong dignitary?” 

Ben smiles in the way that makes people wonder if he’s joking. “Please, Dalen. You’ll make people think you’re Mandalorian, greeting others in that manner.” He sits across from Dalen in the booth, sloppily, a smug smile on his face. For work like this, he wears armor and a dark cloak, which… honestly, it is fun to wear a cloak. He can swish it around and everything. 

“You know, actually, I’d like to see that. Me with my lekku shoved into one of those kriffing helmets. Might even be funny. Looking for something new?”

Ben raises an eyebrow, and Dalen laughs in a way that could be considered genuine. 

“There’s a fresh contract on an escaped clone closer to the core, and the money’s good. Sell your mother good.” Dalen leans in and offers Ben the puck. “Interested?”

“No,” he replies, not even bothering to look. “I’d rather stick around Tatooine, if you didn’t mind. The weather here is just so agreeable.” 

Dalen just rolls his eyes. “Alright, suit yourself.” He lays out a handful of different pucks. “There’s only folks who’ve skipped bail if you’re looking to stay local.” 

“Of course.” Ben sighs and picks one of the remaining contracts at random. “Wish me luck, Dalen.” 

“You know you don’t need it. You’re one of my most reliable hunters,” Dalen says, slapping Ben on the shoulder. “But happy trails.”

Ben flips him a lazy salute and leaves the bar, hiding the puck in one of his many pockets. There’s no challenge to these, but he doesn’t mind—the last fight that was a challenge… he feels the heat of molten lava, sees a darkened sky choked by ash. 

He’s not looking for challenges anymore. 

For a few hours, he gets lost in the chase, and it’s a nice distraction. He knows exactly what the Council would say about a Jedi using their powers to make money, but considering that they’re dead and gone, and he’s the only member of the Council he can even reach anymore… they can keep their morals. Ben wants stir-fry. 

Later, he visits the local market to buy food for dinner. He smiles at the right people, and he knows it’s strange to be polite on this planet, but he can’t help it. When he remembers, he tries to quash the accent. 

He wanders through the streets, shopping slung over one shoulder. What he really wants is to sit in a botanic garden, but that’s an obscene luxury on Tatooine. He’s fairly sure the closest anyone can get to a botanic garden around here is sitting on a rock next to a lone, desiccated cactus. 

The same suns shine on his face, the same moons rise in the sky. Gods, he’d kill for a bookstore. 

He sees Luke leaving school, holding onto his Aunt Beru’s hand. 

The suns set, and he makes his way back home. 

He does make a stir-fry for dinner, which he eats alone in his kitchen. He doesn’t think about cooking for Anakin and Ahsoka the last time they were on Coruscant together, he doesn’t think about trying to guess Cody’s favorite food ( _he doesn’t want the food, he wants you_ ), he doesn’t think about Qui-Gon making omelettes and burning them spectacularly on Obi-Wan’s life day, when he was just a padawan with something to prove, a million years ago. 

Things are good enough. 

— 

Ben’s comm buzzes so early in the morning it almost hurts to be awake. Without even thinking, he rifles through the drawers and grabs it, thinking he’s late for a briefing. Twelve years late. _Kriff_. 

The line is encrypted and on a Jedi server, which means—which he hopes means—someone friendly is on the other side. He fumbles with the little device and then answers shakily, “Hello?”

“Obi-Wan, it’s Bail. I have some news for you.” 

He has half a mind to turn the commlink off. “Yes?” 

Bail takes a moment to respond, which is unusual. Perhaps he’s delivering bad news. “I have someone here who’s expressed a desire to see you. It's Cody.” 

It takes a nice, peaceful five seconds for that to process. Then he sinks to the floor, hands shaking. “Bail? Are you still there—gods alive. Is he okay? Can he talk to me? Please, I just want to hear him, I need to know if it’s him—” He bites down hard on his lip and takes a deep breath. 

“I’m very sure it’s him, Obi. I’ll be arriving on Tatooine to drop him off, discretely, of course. He, er—he’s in surgery to remove the control chip. So he’s not available to speak at the moment.” 

Ben stifles a sigh of disappointment. There’s a knot of roiling tension in his chest and no matter how much he tries to release it into the Force, it won’t let go, damn near choking him with hope and fear. “He’s alright?” 

“The chip’s been active for over a decade, and it started to degrade. I believe—the doctor attending to him believes this may be why he was able to break free. However, it’s caused some brain damage, and—Obi-Wan?”

He’s biting down on his hand to keep himself from making a sound, but he must’ve let something escape. What if Cody forgets him? Gods, they’re so close, and to be taken from each other now would be the ultimate injustice. He has to apologize, he has to repair at least this, while he still can. 

“He’ll be alright,” Bail promises.

Ben reaches out into the Force, for the first time in years, and feels Bail keeping something from him, like a breath held underwater. “How is he now?” 

Bail’s hesitation is enough to let Ben know something is wrong. “He had a seizure, right before he went into surgery, and he’s had two more since. There’s extensive damage to the tissue surrounding the chip, and it’s proving difficult to remove. I had intended to call you after he woke up, as the procedure was supposed to be short. But it’s been three hours, and they’re still not done.” 

“What’s his prognosis?” Ben manages to ask, his heart beating loud in his chest. 

“They’ll have to wait until he’s awake again to find out. Although he seemed to be in pain from the chip, and his memories were affected.” 

The news just keeps getting worse. “Did he... he remembered me, right?” 

“Yes, he did.” 

For a second, he allows himself to feel relief, before he crushes it again. “Did he hate me?” 

“Obi-Wan, all he could tell me was how much he wanted to see you. He was afraid _you’d_ be angry with _him._ His memories were unstable, but he remembered and loved you very clearly.” 

Ben digs his nails into his arm, and the feeling centers him. 

“We’ll arrive in twenty-two hours, and I can let you know he’s doing in the meantime, if you want.”

“I do want—I do want to know.” Ben says past the tightness in his throat. 

“Of course.” Bail is warm and reassuring as always. “It’ll be fine, okay?”

“Yes. I’m outside Anchorhead. I’ll transmit the coordinates.”

“Received. Do you want me to stay on the comm with you?”

Ah. He must sound... distressed. “No, Bail, that’s more than a day. I’ll talk to you soon.” Ben turns off the comm with a click. At least he’s already on the floor. 

In his head, he starts planning it out; if it’s two in the morning, and the days on Tatooine are twenty-three hours, then Cody will arrive by one in the morning tomorrow. That’s fine. He can do that. He’s waited twelve years. What’s twenty-two hours? He has the patience of a Jedi Master, after all. 

—

“Yes,” Bail says for the tenth time, “He’s still in surgery.” 

“Have there been _any_ changes?” 

“Old friend, I haven’t received any updates either. You would have heard if I had, I promise.” 

“Could you check on him, just to make sure?” 

“Of course I will,” Bail agrees with infinite grace. “But you should try to get some sleep as soon as I do.” 

Ben nods to himself. He sighs and walks back to his bed on unsteady legs; he’s tired, but he doesn’t want to miss anything. 

Nights on Tatooine are cold, and he wraps himself in one of the blankets on his bed and yawns, forcing his eyes open again. All the lights are on, but even then, he’s sleepy. Maybe he needs caff. 

“No change. Now please, go to sleep. I’ll be a call away if you need anything.” 

Ben agrees, turns the commlink off, and makes himself a cup of caff. And then another. Frankly, it doesn’t have much of an effect on him. He’s already worked himself into a mild apprehension and is building up to a serious trepidation—what’s a little more on top of that? 

He drinks cup after cup of caff until his hands are shaking. Although, maybe they were shaking before that. 

After exactly one hour, twenty-nine minutes, he calls Bail and is told that Cody is out of surgery and ‘recovering’, and that he should go to sleep. 

Ben nods and goes for a walk in the desert. It’s so early in the morning that the only light is from Tatooine’s smallest moon. The longer he stays up, the more of the worry drains away, replaced by an even numbness. 

Twenty-two hours. More like fifteen now. There’s nothing to do other than wait. 

— 

Ben is uncomfortably still as the ship lands, clenching his hands into fists. The sand kicks up in his eyes, and he shields them unwillingly. 

The landing ramp extends, and Ben’s heart jumps into his throat when he sees a figure standing at the top, but he quickly realizes it’s Bail, and it’s a disappointing relief.

“Obi-Wan, it’s good to see you,” Bail says, holding out his hand. 

“And you as well. Also, it’s Ben now.” Obi-Wan can hardly move, he’s so—not scared. Something worse. 

Bail leads him into the ship gently. “Of course.” 

Without entirely meaning to, he stops just before the threshold, fingernails digging into the back of his hand. “Bail, I can’t do this.” 

“What do you mean?” Bail’s forehead wrinkles as he frowns at Ben. “What’s wrong?” 

“I never looked for him. He’ll hate me. Blame me for not finding him. I should’ve done more, I should never have just _given up_. If our situations were reversed, he would never have given up the way I did.”

Bail waits until Ben runs out of steam, and then he says, “I guarantee he doesn’t hate you. He never could.”

“I don’t deserve that,” Ben mumbles, turning away. 

“Ben,” Bail sighs, over a decade of frustration in his voice. “If you don’t want to see him, that’s your decision, and I’ll respect it. I can take Cody to the Rebellion; I’m sure they’d be happy to have him.”

Ben thinks of the cold, empty bed waiting for him, years spent in the hot desert sun, the twin suns tracing their way across the pale blue sky together, following a single lone shadow across the dunes, and Cody on a distant world, forgetting Ben. “I’ll go. To apologize.” 

Bail nods, patting Ben on the shoulder. “Alright. Then come with me.”

They walk into the ship, footsteps echoing through the hallways. 

“How is Luke?” Bail asks innocently. 

“I know what you’re doing.” Ben scowls, but not for long. “Luke’s doing well. He’s already showing an affinity for mechanics; he repaired one of the condensers just yesterday, all by himself. Although he’s alarmingly interested in podracing.”

Bail laughs at that. “I’m sure he’ll grow out of it.” 

“I hope so. I’ve had quite enough of that to last me a lifetime.” Ben’s anxiety spikes again as soon as they step into the medbay’s entrance hall. “This is a very nice facility, for a ship this small. I think I should like to see more of it—”

“Ben.”

He digs his nails into his hand a bit harder. “Yes, I know.” 

“I’ll be here if you need me,” Bail promises. “He’s waiting for you in the third room down the hall.”

Ben nods, barely registering the words. Each step is impossibly hard, like wading through a waist-deep swamp. What’s he even going to say? There’s no script for this, no perfect words to say. Nothing about this is even remotely perfect. 

He pushes open the third door and stops, staring at the painfully familiar form curled up on the bed.  Ben covers his mouth with his hand, hardly daring to breathe. 

It’s _Cody_. The same scar, the same wrinkles in his forehead from frowning, the same shining Force presence that makes Ben feel so warm, like he’s standing in the sun. but his presence is flickering unsteadily, and Ben’s heart aches to see it. 

Then the form shifts, and amber eyes meet his. 

“Obi-Wan?” Cody asks, his voice rough. 

“Y—yes? It’s me.” Ben looks up at him nervously, tugging at a loose thread inside his sleeve. 

Cody’s expression contorts, fear and hope and worry, like thinks Ben might reject him. 

Ben stifles a gasp and runs, tripping over his own feet, and Cody’s reaching out for him, then they crash together, his hands sliding over Cody’s back. They kiss desperately at first, over each other’s faces and hair and skin, and then hesitantly, softly, in prayer and apology. Ben kisses the side of Cody’s neck and feels him arch up in pleasure, one hand tangling in Ben’s hair. They pull apart and lean in again before they get too far away, and Cody closes his eyes, pressing his forehead to Ben’s. After a moment, Ben tilts his head and kisses Cody’s lips, chaste and gentle. 

Ben brushes one thumb across a scar on Cody’s cheek, faded to silver, and over new ones, still pink and tender—he can’t stop touching Cody, reassuring himself that he’s still there. “I’m so sorry I never came for you, I’ve never stopped regretting it. I’ve thought about you every day, I’ve—” 

“I’ve been thinking about you too, I’ve—” 

“Missed you so much,” they say together. 

Cody practically pulls Ben onto the bed with him, and the sand that clings to Ben's clothes gets everywhere. “I’m not letting you go anywhere.” 

“You’re not angry with me?” Ben asks, resting his head on Cody’s chest. “I wanted to look for you, but I had to take care of Luke, and everyone thought I was dead anyway—”

“Luke?” Cody stares at Ben. “You didn’t get… we didn’t have a… I could have _sworn_ we used protection.” 

“Hm? Oh. _Oh_. He’s Anakin’s, with Senator Amidala, they had two. And besides, I couldn’t even back then, so no surprise babies for you, my dear.” The phrase rolls off his tongue by accident, but it’s so good to say. 

“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind,” he sighs, relaxing again. “I wouldn’t have minded, though.”

“Really?”

“Of course not.” Cody traces one hand up Ben’s side and cups the side of his face. “I am, and shall always be, yours.”

He tucks himself against Cody’s chest, nuzzling him to reassure himself that he’s really there. He breathes in, and Cody smells different, like medical antiseptic and strange soap, but at the same time, just how he remembers, summer fields and the sea and rain in the autumn when the weather is turning cool. “Missed you,” Ben murmurs, his chest tight. 

Cody wraps his arms tight around Ben and kisses his hair. “Missed you too.” 

Ben whines at the touch and chokes, “ _I missed you_.” He wipes at his eyes with a sandy sleeve, and when he looks up again, tears are shining in Cody’s eyes. 

When he blinks, the tears roll down and leave tracks on his face. “I missed you so much—and now that you’re here, I can barely look at you, because you make me so happy it hurts.”

Ben stutters for a moment. “You—you had to have rehearsed that. No other explanation for why you’re so eloquent and I can only get sand all over your bed.”

“Maybe they’re a little rehearsed,” Cody admits, wiping at his eyes. “They have to be, to compete with you.” He winces and presses a hand to the side of his head. 

A wave of unease prickles up Ben’s spine. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah. It just hurts a bit,” Cody admits, which means it must hurt like hell. “The chip wasn’t meant to be active for that long, and it damaged the surrounding tissue. But it’s fine.” He smiles, eyes blinking sleepily. “My memory’s better.” Then he yawns and makes the same tiny adorable noise he used to, and Ben can’t help but want to kiss him.

“You’re tired, I should let you rest,” he says, pulling back instead. 

Even though Ben’s closed off from the Force, he can still feel the ripples of Cody’s distress. “Wait! Can you—will you stay with me?” 

Ben’s heart squeezes in his chest, and he curls up next to Cody again. “Of course I will.”

They fit together the same way they always did, and for the first time in years, Ben’s sleep is dreamless. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I keep hurting them here are some snuggles and kisses


	3. badlands [cody]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cody wakes up next to his husband and everything is fine!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey yall, sorry to vanish for so long! Life... it happens (also I rewrote the majority of this chapter no I don't want to talk about it) 
> 
> Anyway, thanks so much for your patience, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Obi-Wan is just the way Cody remembers. Older, greyer, but just as beautiful. In the early morning sunlight, his hair turns to silver and copper. Cody reaches out and pets Obi-Wan’s head, and his _cyare_ mumbles in his sleep, rolling so they’re face-to-face. “Good morning, sleepy,” Cody says. 

Obi-Wan blinks and rubs at one eye. “You’re here. It wasn’t a dream.” 

“Not this time.” 

“Ha ha, very funny.” Obi-Wan settles again. There are more freckles on his face, in patterns Cody doesn’t recognize. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Committing things to memory.” He traces a finger along the bridge of Obi-Wan’s nose and the center of his forehead, dotted with the most freckles and marked with new wrinkles. “Contingency plan.” 

Obi-Wan settles closer to Cody. “I won’t let you forget me. I can be quite annoying when I wish to be.”

Cody shakes his head. “The chip blocked all my memories, even the annoying ones. So I don’t want to make any bets. You know. And I—it’s better you didn’t try to find me, because I would probably have killed you for being a traitor to the Empire.” 

“It’s cute that you think you’d be able to murder me. I let you have the other one.” Obi-Wan starts to fuss with Cody’s hair. “May I ask how you finally managed to escape?” 

“Sure.” Cody takes a moment to organize his thoughts. “I was on Coruscant. I didn’t remember that I’d been there before. But I traced our steps, from when we were there on shore leave, the first time. Everything was gone, and it didn’t mean anything to me anyway, and it hurt, and—it was all _gone_.” Cody breaks off for a moment, and Obi-Wan reaches out to hold his hand. “But I was in front of your master’s grave, and when I heard what was written there, that was what helped me remember. It was you. Then I ran. And the rest is history.” He looks up, not quite smiling.

Obi-Wan pulls him in close. “The rest is history. Although I’m sorry that my awful joke is what reminded you, not something more poignant.” 

“I kind of think it was. Because it was you, and you made me laugh, and my sense of humor is also awful.” Cody kisses him gently on the side of his face; his beard is rougher and sprinkled with grey, but Cody still loves the way it looks. “I remembered you before I remembered my own name, but—I sound crazy, don’t I—it felt right.”

“That’s. That’s—” Obi-Wan closes his eyes and breathes, which Cody recognizes as him trying to center himself in the Force. “I’m sorry if I’m reacting strangely, it’s just that I’ve been alone for so long. And now you’re here, and I think this might be a dream, but if it is, then it’s a good dream.” Obi-Wan and Cody try to kiss each other at the same time and bonk noses, then they laugh and kiss properly.

“ _Cyar’ika_ , if this was a dream, we wouldn’t be on Tatooine,” Cody murmurs. “Maybe there’d be a thunderstorm, and we’d be under the same blanket, drinking tea.” 

Obi-Wan nuzzles the curve of Cody’s neck and kisses the delicate skin there. “That can be arranged.” 

“I was going to ask how our patient felt,” a robotic voice chirps, “But he seems quite recovered.” 

With a soft noise, Obi-Wan pulls away from Cody. He tilts his head when he sees the med droid, then he frowns in understanding. 

“Yep. Am I cleared to go?” Cody asks. 

“Haha! No,” the droid says, and even though his expression is permanently neutral and his tone of voice compulsorily happy, Cody knows he’s annoyed. “You have suffered extensive neurological damage from the control chip. Also, you are displaying the same inflammatory joint disease common to clones of your age.” 

“I’m... what disease?” Cody cycles back mentally through the infrequent medical checkups he’d had on Kamino. They’d mentioned joint problems, but this sounds exponentially more problematic. 

“I must also inform you that if you so desire, there is a genetic therapy that has been developed by the Rebel Alliance which will restore your aging to a rate standard to your species. Treatment duration is approximately three months and can take place on the nearest Rebel base.” 

“Three months?” Cody looks over at Obi-Wan, whose expression is curiously flat. 

“Yes. It takes some time to ensure that all cells have been affected. Also, you will experience many changes as a result of this treatment, which are not negative, but will take some getting used to.” The droid flies around so he’s hovering in front of Cody at a conversational distance, gesturing with one hand like there’s an infographic behind him. “This is not a comprehensive overview. Expected changes include: slower metabolism, weight gain, loss of appetite, increased need for sleep, slower wound healing, lessened risk of some blood and stomach cancers, and lower core body temperature.”

“Huh. Sounds... like a whole lot of somethings,” Cody replies, watching Obi-Wan’s carefully neutral expression. “What kind of treatment is it, specifically? Has it been tested?”

“The treatment is a successive series of Cas proteins that will target the nine sequences in your DNA responsible for increasing your aging rate and replace them with those typically found in your species. Testing has been limited to exclusively clone troopers from Kamino, but dozens of patients have been successfully treated.”

“Troopers? Who were they?” Cody demands. Any of the 212th? He knows shit went down with the 501st, but what about Rex? Cody thinks of his own battalion, his squadmates who were still alive when the Empire fell, Fox and Bly, the others from his batch—

The droid tilts his head to the side. “I am sorry, but I am not allowed to divulge that information.”

“I’m their commanding officer,” Cody retorts without thinking.

“I am still not permitted to tell you, as this information is confidential. My apologies.”

Cody grumbles to himself, then says, “Fine.” He knows better than to argue this point—he’ll find out some other way. “I have to admit, it’s... I almost don’t want to believe it.” He’s supposed to be dead in another twenty-five years. What if he lived twice that instead? He looks over ar Obi-Wan. 

“If you want to stay at the closest base, that’s fine by me, although I won’t be able to go with you.” Obi-Wan rests a hand on Cody’s shoulder, like that will soften the blow. 

“What? But I—I want you with me,” Cody says softly. He lowers his gaze to the ground, and a familiar warm hand grabs his.

“I know. I’ll explain later,” Obi-Wan promises.

Cody chews on his lip, then looks back at the droid. “Tell me about everything else.”

The droid emits a nervous beep, tapping his metallic hands together. “Alright. Well.” He looks at Obi-Wan, who isn’t showing any signs of leaving. “Clones such as yourself occasionally display hypergrowth-induced inflammatory joint disease, which causes painful swelling and soreness in joints around the body that becomes progressively more intense. The specific cause is not well understood, as cloning has been illegal in this region of space for many years, and your brothers may be some of the only people in the galaxy who will ever display it. There is an anti-inflammatory I can prescribe which will reduce the pain.” 

“Yes,” Cody says quickly. “Er. Yes, that would be good.” 

The droid nods. “Noted. Further discussion will be required. Finally, you have experienced some moderate brain trauma and significant memory loss. As it stands, you have an increased risk of epilepsy and migraines. Hopefully, more problems will not develop, but we shall see.” 

Someone programmed this droid to be just a bit too flippant. 

“I would prefer to keep you under observation for seventy-two hours, but we are needed elsewhere, and I am told you wish to remain on Tatooine.” 

Cody looks down at Obi-Wan, who’s nuzzling Cody’s shoulder sleepily. “You staying here?” 

“Yes, to watch Luke.” 

“Looks like I’m staying on Tatooine,” Cody says, and the droid rolls his eyes. 

“If that is what you want, then who am I to stop you? Do not hesitate to call if you experience further memory loss, exhibit odd behaviors, or die abruptly. I will return momentarily.” Then the droid hovers away, waving one hand over his shoulder. 

“Huh.” Cody turns to Obi-Wan. “That sounded almost promising.” 

“That’s one word for it.”

There are a half-dozen things Cody wants to talk to Obi-Wan about, but it doesn’t seem like the right time. The droid comes back in with a list of prescriptions and another eye-roll for Cody. Since he doesn’t have organic eyes, the droid has to communicate said eye-roll by moving his entire head in a circle and sighing dramatically. 

But if Obi-Wan isn’t going, then Cody isn’t going either. 

“Well, if this is everything, then I’m getting out of here.” Cody swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands up, back and knees creaking. All his blood rushes to his feet, and he sways for a second.

Obi-Wan grabs onto Cody’s arm to steady him. 

“Thanks, I’m fine,” Cody murmurs to him. “Come on, old man.” 

They leave the medbay together, Obi-Wan’s arm around Cody’s waist. 

“There they are,” Bail greets them. “Cody, good to see you up again. Will you be staying on Tatooine?” 

Cody nods. “Yeah, I think so. For now.” 

“Well, if you—” Bail catches Obi-Wan’s expression and seems to change his sentence mid-word “—ever need anything, just let me know. I’m more than happy to provide.” 

“Thank you, Senator, that’s very generous.” 

“Please, it’s just Bail, and if anyone deserves good things, it’s the two of you. I hope to see you soon.” 

“Bye, Bail,” Obi-Wan says meaningfully. 

“Bye, Ben,” Bail sighs. 

Cody frowns but still leaves with Obi-Wan. “Ben?” 

“My cover name. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to, but in public, you should probably, otherwise people will ask questions.” 

“Alright, Ben,” Cody says, testing the name on his tongue. “Whatever you say.” 

Heat pours into the ship from the open door, and Obi-Wan leads Cody out into an endless sea of sand and silvery mirages. 

“Wow, it’s damn awful out here.” Cody squints at the light from Tatooine’s twin suns. A sharp, hot wind whips sand directly into his face, and he scowls. 

“Oh, doubtless,” Obi-Wan agrees. 

The _Tantive IV_ kicks up sand as it departs, vanishing in a flash of light. 

“I don’t live far, not half a mile.” Obi-Wan points off towards the beginnings of rocky badlands in the distance. “Although I didn’t think about your knees; didn’t, er, think about much, actually.” He smiles sheepishly. 

“It’ll be nice to stretch my legs. I don’t mind.” Cody looks over at Obi-Wan, still wearing his typical long tan robes, the fabric now worn with age. A dark hooded cloak hides his face from the sun, and Cody’s surprised he’s managed to keep even one of them this long. 

Obi-Wan catches Cody’s gaze and smiles. “Alright, if you say so.” He holds out his hand to Cody, and Cody holds onto him tight. 

They walk. Even though the suns are hot, it’s nice. Cody bumps Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and Obi-Wan shoves him back, and Cody unbalances and falls into the sand, dragging Obi-Wan down with him. 

“Cody, careful of the sand!” Obi-Wan sputters, trying to wipe the grit out of his mouth. “Help me up.” 

“Getting delicate in your old age?” Cody asks while he hauls Obi-Wan back to his feet. 

“You wish.” Obi-Wan brushes off his clothes haughtily. “So juvenile.”

Cody shakes his head. “You of all people really can’t claim the high ground here.” 

After a moment, Cody notices that Obi-Wan isn’t walking alongside him. When he turns around, he sees Obi-Wan standing in the dunes a few meters back, eyes glazed. 

“Obi—er—Ben?” 

“Hm?” Obi-Wan finally looks up, and he smiles faintly. “Is something the matter?”

“You were just standing there, after I said—” 

“I know what you said, dear. It merely reminded me of something,” Obi-Wan replies, subtly brushing the conversation away. 

“Oh, okay.” Cody doesn’t ask anything more about it. There will be time later. 

Obi-Wan holds on a bit tighter to Cody afterwards, his playfulness gone. “My apologies, I’ve grown accustomed to being alone with my thoughts. I promise my conversational skills haven’t deteriorated quite so far.” 

“Hiding your emotions with sass, classic Kenobi move,” Cody says without thinking. 

“Hmph.” 

“Grumbling, a classic Old Kenobi move?” 

“I am being bullied,” Obi-Wan declares. 

Cody nudges him again, gently, and Obi-Wan leans against him as they walk. After ten or so minutes, they reach the sandstone badlands, which rise up above the desert in rugged reddish-brown cliffs. 

“So... what have you been doing?” Cody asks. 

“Me?” Obi-Wan looks suspiciously innocent. “Nothing really, aside from watching Luke.” 

“You’re telling me that you did _nothing really_ for twelve years? Master Windu told me you had never taken a day off in your life when you were a Jedi. Always working.” 

“Oh, what does he know.”

“Yeah,” Cody says drily. “He’s just a Master of the Order and both a mentor and a friend to you, what does he know?” 

Obi-Wan shakes his head, expression peaceful and serene. “I have been exceptionally busy taking care of Luke.” 

That does make sense. Judging by Rex’s accounts of Tano’s exploits, raising a padawan is difficult at the best of times. And a mini-Skywalker, with all the power and none of the training? Recipe for disaster. “If you insist. When do I get to meet Padawan Skywalker? Is he staying with you?” Cody kicks at a rock on the ground. 

“No, of course not, he’s with his aunt and uncle,” he says, as if that’s obvious. 

Cody knows he’s missing something. “You aren’t raising him? Or training him?” 

Obi-Wan pauses for a moment. “I taught him in primary school. But he needs someone to look out for him. Make sure he isn’t attacked by the Empire, or who knows what else. Not paint a target on his back.” 

“Well, what about the Rebellion I’ve been hearing so much about?” From a small child, but that’s irrelevant. “You’re not involved with them either?” 

“Oh.” Obi-Wan looks down and away, which for him, is the equivalent of screaming ‘I AM HIDING SOMETHING’ to the sky. He tucks his hands into his sleeves, which really sets Cody on edge. “Because of various personal circumstances, I remain unaligned with the Rebellion.” 

“Why the hell not? The Empire is running roughshod over the whole galaxy, and you were the—don’t argue this point, I’m not conceding—you were the greatest general in the entire GAR. The most respected duelist. Why are you on the sidelines?” 

Obi-Wan walks a bit faster to avoid Cody’s gaze, picking his way between the rocks and boulders. “I think something might be coloring your opinions of me.” 

Something absolutely is, but Cody stands by what he’s said. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but I’m just curious.” He realizes his arms are crossed and hastily shoves his hands into his pockets instead. “You’re _you_.” 

Obi-Wan looks back towards Cody, and that single piece of hair flops into his eyes. “As you know, I have business here. I hardly have the time to go off gallivanting about the galaxy again.” 

_Ha!_ Cody latches onto the word. “Again?” 

The slight pause before Obi-Wan speaks lets Cody know he hadn’t meant to say that. “When Luke had just turned one year old—there was something I had to do.” 

“May I ask what it was?” 

Obi-Wan gives him a smile as empty as the sand wastes of Tatooine. “How about later, dear?” 

“Okay,” Cody agrees easily. “Only if that’s a promise.” He doesn’t want to upset Obi-Wan mere hours after finding him again. 

They walk in silence for a few minutes. Even though Cody’s in good shape, the sheer heat is starting to get to him, although they should be close by now. He keeps pushing forward, knowing it’ll be better to rest inside. 

A wave of dizziness sweeps over him, and he can almost swear the horizon is swaying. He has to sit down somewhere before he falls the hell over. “Hey, I think—” 

“Is everything alright?” 

Cody grabs onto Obi-Wan’s arm as he sways, the entire horizon listing to one side. “Obi, I think I need to—” He sits down heavily on the hot sand and closes his eyes, but the dizziness doesn’t go away. 

“Cody, what’s wrong?” Obi-Wan asks, kneeling beside him. 

“N—no—” Cody’s stomach flips, and he presses a hand over his mouth. He shakes his head, regretting it instantly. 

“Please don’t try to say nothing, it’s clearly not true,” Obi-Wan scolds worriedly. A warm hand presses to Cody’s back, and he leans into the touch. 

A blessed coolness washes over him, brushing away the heat of the suns. 

“Any better?” 

“Yeah.” He opens his eyes again, and Obi-Wan is hovering over him, fretting again. “I don’t know if I can—” 

“Come here, darling,” Obi-Wan says without further prompting, and he scoops Cody up into his arms. “It’s not far.” 

Cody relaxes after a long moment, and the world stops spinning so violently. “I think I just got too hot. And I still feel a little off. I don’t know. Thank you for carrying me.” 

“No need for thanks. If you’ll recall, I did promise I’d carry you whenever necessary.” Obi-Wan presses a gentle kiss to Cody’s forehead. “And for the record, you’re always hot. Ahem. I’m going to jump, if that’s okay.” 

“Hold on, tell me I’m hot again.” 

“Fishing for compliments? Alright. You’re deeply, extremely attractive. Some might even say hot.” 

Cody grins a mile wide. “Seems like you might have a crush on me, Kenobi. Pretty embarrassing for you.” 

“Oh, you’re—” Obi-Wan kisses his forehead, flustered. “Let’s go.” 

Cody’s grip on Obi-Wan tightens, and they jump into the air. Last time, they’d been escaping an exploding LAAT, and Cody had looked behind them in time to see the entire craft go up in flames. But this time, there’s no sense of urgency or fear, just the simple joy of being in the air. Cody can almost swear the crystal in his pocket sings at the swirl of Force energy around them—and then they land. 

“Can I set you down?”

“Oh. Yeah.” 

They’ve arrived at the edge of Tatooine’s badlands, an endless expanse of warm reddish sandstone. Obi-Wan’s little house looks over the canyons below, the only civilization for what feels like miles. Something about it fills Cody with an unbearable loneliness—maybe it’s the stark colors, terracotta-red, the purest, palest blue, the wheat-field gold sand, not a single cloud in the sky. Everything that lives here clings to the edge of life, one bad day away from slipping. 

Obi-Wan opens the door and holds out a hand. “Come on, darling. We’re home.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my notes this is the 'honeymoon' arc. The next one is called 'BBQ' haha


	4. wasteland, baby [ben]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _and i love too that love soon might end  
>  be known in its aching  
> shown in the shaking  
> lately, of my wasteland, baby_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **! Fic rating has changed !**
> 
> If you're not interested, stop reading when Ben starts to lovingly describe Cody's hands—also, you don't have to read this chapter at all to get the full story!

Ben realizes that he should probably have cleaned up a bit as soon as he opens the door. There are dirty clothes on the floor and dirty dishes in the sink, plus about a dune's worth of sand lurking in every corner.  “It’s not much, but wait until you taste the tea,” he jokes. “Although I’m also serious, would you like some tea?” 

“If you’re making it, then yeah.” Cody looks at Ben with such a deep fondness that Ben can’t help but blush. 

He busies himself with the kettle in the kitchenette. “We can buy you more clothes to wear, but until then, if you don’t mind, you can borrow some of mine. They’ll be a little small, though.” 

“That’s fine. I don’t mind.” Cody comes to stand behind Ben and wraps an arm around his waist. “Hello.” 

“Hello,” Ben says, feeling like something of a fool, standing there and waiting for the water to boil. After a second of deliberation, he presses a quick kiss to Cody’s cheek and shuffles across the kitchen. He takes two mugs down from a cabinet and drops a teabag into each one. Mango sencha, with little bits of dried mango. “Do you feel alright? We had something of a scare back there.”

“I’m fine.” Cody stares out the window, then turns back towards Ben, smiling. “I don’t really want to think about it right now.” 

“No?” Ben lets it go for the time being. “Alright.” 

They’re silent for another moment as Cody pokes at the rocks on the dusty, peeling kitchen windowsill. 

“Not exactly the glamorous lifestyle you envisioned for yourself, is it?” 

Cody tilts his head to the side, looking at the conservator. One hand comes up to poke at the papers stuck to the door. “You know me. I’m not really one for glamour. Although it’s… quiet out here.”

Certainly quiet for a man who’s spent his whole life surrounded by other people—his brothers or the Empire’s troopers. “I find I rather enjoy the quiet. I hope you’ll come to like it, too.” Ben doesn’t quite smile, flinching as the kettle clicks off. 

There’s a pause while Cody regards him, dark eyes missing nothing. “It’s been a long twelve years for you too, hasn’t it?” 

Ben pours the hot water into the mugs.  “I suppose it was a bit long,” he answers as he sets the tea on the table. “Let that steep for a few minutes.” 

“I remember,” Cody says softly. He leans over his cup and breathes in the steam, closing his eyes. “Smells the same.” 

“I hope so. You have no idea how hard it is to find this brand of tea out here.” 

Cody huffs quietly, which is the equivalent of laughing out loud for him. “I keep getting the feeling I’m late for a meeting or something, anything. Feels like things are about to go wrong.” 

Ben nods. “I know what you mean, but you really do get used to it. More than get used to it. There’s something to be said for the quiet.” 

“I’ll have to take your word for it.” Cody picks up his cup of tea and swirls it around, then sighs. The sunlight splashes artfully across one cheek, highlighting the scar he’d gotten on Christophsis, many years ago, now. He doesn’t seem to belong in Ben’s home, but… he could. And that’s what matters. As if he can hear Ben’s thoughts, Cody breaks his silence by saying, “So. We’re here, huh.” 

Ben smiles. “We are. I’d offer to show you around, but it’s genuinely just sand and rocks for miles in every direction.” 

“That’s who was always complaining!” Cody snaps his fingers. “General Skywalker. He _hated_ sand.” 

Somehow, Ben laughs, even though something in his chest aches. “Oh, he did. I’ve heard all the complaints.” 

They sip their tea at the same moment. 

"So, er, how have you been?" the famed Negotiator asks his husband, recently returned from over a decade of imprisonment in his own mind. Maybe he's losing his touch. 

“I haven’t done anything worth talking about,” Cody says, one finger tracing the rim of his mug. 

“You broke your own control chip and escaped from the Empire. That’s something.” More than something. Kriffing incredible. Although Ben has always known that Cody is incredible—ahem. 

Cody grumbles. “Yeah, but I don’t remember what I was doing. I know, but I don’t… It’s like I wasn’t all there.” He shakes his head, taking a long swig from his mug of tea like it’s alcohol. 

“You’re here now. If this were your imagination, I don’t think we’d been in a shack on the edge of the desert.” 

“Hm… What would you prefer? I'm taking requests.” 

“Trees,” Ben sighs. “Clouds. Gods, a _river_. If you’re up for a challenge, I'd welcome a greenhouse.” 

Cody closes his eyes and concentrates hard for a second, then opens them and looks out the window. “Kark, didn’t work.” There’s a cheeky grin on his face as he turns back towards Ben.

“Thank you for trying,” he says drily. 

“Worth a stab.” 

Ben tries not to watch as Cody’s fingers lace around the mug, worn and sturdy and warm. He’s always had such lovely hands, working hands, always in motion. “Yes. Of course.” 

Cody’s thumb rubs along the handle of the cup, kark, he has to know what he’s doing, right? He has to know, he's not an idiot. Gods, it’s been years since anyone teased him quite the way Cody does as he slides his hands along the warm creamy porcelain, and for an instant it's like no time has passed, like they're flirting in the _Negotiator’_ s cafeteria and any second now someone will notice what they're doing and start to wolf whistle. The Force echoes with half-forgotten warmth, threading through the kitchen like the steam from their tea, and Cody looks up at Ben through dark eyelashes, his strong hands cradling the cup as he lifts it to his lips, fuck, shit, _fuck_.

Ben fervently wishes he was that cup. 

The warm glow in his gut starts to burn as Cody sips the tea, and gods, the hum he makes as he tastes, finds it palatable, and swallows. Ben’s eyes trace the lines of Cody’s throat, down to his chest and broad shoulders. 

Gods, he would give anything to slip into Cody’s arms and just be with him—

“What are you thinking, _cyare_?” 

“That I should very much like... Ahem. Some more tea.” He stands up and feels his underwear clinging to him, the fabric warm and slick between his legs. The friction makes him bite back a gasp. He really isn’t used to feeling this way; gods, there are only two people he’s ever—and people had teased him for flirting so much, but it had only ever been a game to him. Cody is different. He doesn’t want to kark anything up, hardly knows what to do with himself other than _want_ and _need_. 

Cody follows him to the sink, leaving the mug behind. “Tea? Really?” 

“Yes,” he lies. Ben doesn’t know what it is, why him, he just knows that something in him needs to be with Cody. He finds himself drifting closer, and they’re pressed right up against each other as Ben fumbles with the tea. 

They’ve talked before, how Cody doesn’t feel conventional attraction to anyone, not even Ben, but does enjoy the act. The closeness of it all, pleasuring Ben, seeing him unravel. Enjoys it a lot, actually. 

“Can I...” Cody leans over and kisses the side of Ben’s neck, right under his jawline, trailing kisses over Ben’s freckled shoulders. 

“You don’t have to, I’m perfectly fine with doing things myself,” Ben tells him. “If you were amenable, though, I think that I would rather very much like—” he stifles a moan and drops the tin of tea with a clatter as Cody's teeth graze against his skin. “ _Oh_.” 

“I want to, though. Make you feel good.” Cody draws back, just in case Ben rebuffs him again, deep brown eyes watching him. “What do you want, _cyare_?”

He grabs one of Cody’s hands and guides it underneath his tunic. “For you to stop touching that kriffing cup and touch me instead.”

Cody smiles as they kiss again—his hand roams over Ben’s skin, sliding past the waistband of his briefs to rub between his legs. Two fingers press into Ben, gently, and his knees go weak as the fingers slide in deeper, then curl right against Ben’s walls just the way he likes. He loves the sweet ache as Cody thrusts into him, stretches him ever so slowly, and he bites his lip to keep himself from making a sound. “Let’s take this somewhere more comfortable, yeah?”

Ben lets out a disappointed sigh as Cody’s fingers slide out, then a hand gives his ass a gentle smack in the direction of the bed. “Oh, is that how we’re playing?” Ben laughs. “This ass has gone unslapped for twelve years, and then you have to go and ruin my streak.”

“I’ll be making up for the deficit, don’t worry.” Cody grins cheekily as he takes off his shirt, letting it drop to the floor. This is entirely for Ben's benefit, the slow reveal, the display. 

“Mmm, I’m sure you will,” Ben says, eyes fixed on Cody’s thighs as he slides off his pants. A new silvery scar marks both his upper thighs, cutting across them at a slight angle. “What’s this?” he asks, leaning over to run a finger over the matching scars.

Cody grunts. “Don’t remember.” He leaves his briefs on, then gives Ben a look as if to say, _Why am I the only one stripping?_

“Ah, I see your point.” Ben sheds the outer layer of tunics, arching his back as he takes off his undershirt. He purposefully teases Cody with a band of pale skin, a glimpse of the trail of auburn hair that disappears into his underwear—although he doesn't even get a chance to throw his underwear to the floor before Cody tries to pin him to the bed and kiss him senseless. Ben spreads his legs, so wet he’s fairly certain there’s a spot growing underneath him, and Cody groans as he sinks to his knees over Ben. Not a sexy groan, though, a _my joints hurt ow fuck_ groan. 

“If you need to do this some other way, I’m sure we can come up with something,” Ben babbles, not wanting Cody to be uncomfortable. Trust logistical errors to get into the way. “We’re creative, we can—” 

“It’s fine,” Cody promises, leaning in and kissing Ben again. He's so close that his eyelashes brush against Ben's skin when he blinks. 

Ben grabs at his husband greedily with the Force, has to pull him in closer, needs him closer. Shame bubbles up inside him, knowing that this is a very inappropriate use of the Force, and then he presses gently at Cody’s asshole, sliding pressure up his husband’s whole body as he teases Cody’s rim with invisible hands. 

“Have I ever told you that you’re perfect?” he murmurs, breaking off to groan as Ben pushes inside him. He trails kisses up along Ben’s chest and teases at the other nipple with his teeth before he breaks away. His hands drift down, teasing the head of Ben's enlarged clit and sliding his fingers along the shaft, and it distracts Ben so much that he loses his Force-grip on Cody’s body. “Can I suck you off?” 

“ _Yes_ ,” Ben moans. That damn tease. “Gods. Fuck. I need you, Cody, I need— _ah shit, fuck_ —” 

Cody’s hot mouth presses against his t-cock, licking and sucking at him, teeth grazing over the sensitive place. It only lasts a moment, though, and Ben is most certainly being teased as Cody alternates between sucking his cock and thrusting into his cunt. Cody’s amusement crackles in the air as he teases Ben relentlessly. 

“Please, I’m going to—” He bites down on his lip, trying to keep from fucking himself senseless on Cody’s face. 

Cody licks between Ben’s legs one last time as he pulls away. Desire flares across their bond as Cody just looks at Ben, enjoying the way Ben looks. “Going to what, _cyar’ika_?” Cody brushes that one lock of hair off Ben’s forehead, so gently. “What were you going to do?”

“Oh, you know,” Ben tries to admonish, but the sound is broken and raw. He wraps his legs around Cody’s waist—they need to be closer, he needs more, _now_. Kark, he'd figured he wouldn’t last long, but this is ridiculous. 

Cody slides his hands up Ben’s waist, coming to rest at just the right place to rub Ben’s nipples. Ben’s back arches, and he stifles a whine, aching with need between his legs. 

“What was that?” Cody asks, teasing at Ben’s nipples, giving one of them a gentle twist. 

Ben groans in frustration and pleasure, and he ruts up against the air. “Cody,” he manages to say, squirming. “Please, I need to—to cum.” 

“Good,” Cody murmurs, and Ben bites back a whine. What if someone hears him? 

Out here, in the middle of nowhere.

Cody thrusts two fingers into him, rubbing against Ben’s slick walls, making obscene noises with every motion. Ben clutches at Cody’s shoulders, and honestly, he's trying not to make any sound, but his cunt sounds so kriffing _sloppy_. It strikes him as ridiculous, for a moment, how he could spend twelve contented years alone, then spend fifteen minutes with Cody and have it all go out the window. But also right, that Cody can make him feel this way. He can’t stop himself from letting out a desperate _fuck_ and holding on to Cody so tight he'll probably leave bruises. 

Cody trails his lips across Ben’s, and Ben tastes his own slick on Cody’s tongue as they kiss. The warmth inside him builds to an almost painful crest, and his fingers dig into Cody’s back as he tips over the edge, finally allowing himself to moan shamelessly as waves of pleasure wash over him. 

He’d forgotten how _good_ it could be. “ _Cyare_ ,” he sighs, every muscle loose and pliant. For a second, he’s back on the ship—they’re trying to keep quiet so nobody hears them, curling up against each other in secret silence.  Ben pulls Cody against him, and Cody sighs, pressing their foreheads together. He takes a moment to enjoy the slow rise and fall of Cody’s chest as he breathes, so close to him, eyes full of sleepy love. 

“Hello,” Cody says at last, nosing at Ben’s cheek. 

“Mmm.” Ben’s hands roam over Cody’s body, smooth skin broken by scars, some strange, others heartbreakingly familiar—he belongs here, in Ben’s arms. He missed this man like no other, and now that the missing has ended, he’s left with so much _contentment_. An emotion he has little experience with, but it bubbles over in the Force, washing across their bond. 

“I love you too,” Cody murmurs back, kissing the palm of Ben’s hand as it slides up his cheek. 

Ben smiles as he traces his fingers over the curved scar by Cody’s eye. “Want me to take care of you?”

“Eh. Nah.”

“There is the small manner of you forgetting to slap my ass.” 

“Save it for later,” Cody promises, a teasing smile on his lips. “There's plenty of time.”

For once, he might be right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot will return soon! 
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience and comments! I know I'm not the fastest writer, but I'm still making progress :D slowly :D


End file.
